


A Good Boy (U|U)

by Kestrel_sama



Series: Club Mercy [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Dom/sub, Fluff, M/M, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 03:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama
Summary: Sometimes things get too good, and Jesse just has to fuck them up. (Untouchable|Untameable universe)





	A Good Boy (U|U)

Jesse loved Hanzo -that much was more than evident- and Hanzo routinely said that he loved Jesse, but every once in a while, when things were going _too well_, that nasty little voice in Jesse’s brain would awaken and hiss deprecating things in his ear. 

_You’re not good enough for him._

_He’ll find a better boy soon._

_You don’t deserve this._

_You’re a fraud._

When that voice got a little too loud, a little too persistent, it started an itch under Jesse’s skin. The kind that made him act out, that made him sullen, that made him poke and prod and see how far he could push Hanzo before his Sir finally dropped him. 

It was little things at first, neglecting his chores and leaving his clothes strewn about the bedroom, rather than putting them in the hamper like Hanzo liked. And if Hanzo was too busy or stressed with work to chastize him? Well that was surely a sign that he didn’t care anymore, wasn’t it?

He tracked dirt into the house from his boots after work, and left the mess for the housekeeper, half-daring Hanzo to notice, or even get home in time to see the mess he’d made. 

It wasn’t even that he enjoyed breaking the rules Hanzo had laid out for him; each purposeful misstep and disrespect was a love-letter to his own self-loathing, hammering another nail in the coffin of Hanzo’s patience for his antics. 

He masturbated when he wanted, and didn’t bother to hide the tissues in the wastebasket. He went out drinking with Sombra and had to call one of Hanzo’s drivers to come get him more than once at ungodly hours of the morning. He staggered into bed drunk, and by the time he woke, Hanzo was already gone to work. 

Finally, Hanzo noticed. 

He knew that Hanzo noticed, because he was sitting on the living room couch when Jesse got home from work, fingers interlaced and a stern expression on his handsome features. Jesse gulped, and felt how the grit under his boots was scratching the hardwood floors. This was where it ended, he was certain, his eyes squeezing shut as he waited for the axe to fall, cutting him out of Hanzo’s life once and for all. 

He deserved this. 

“Sit down,” Hanzo commanded. Jesse’s body jerked like he wanted to obey, a yearning in his chest pressing him to submit, but the nasty hiss in his mind told him to continue standing. He’d be walking out the door soon enough anyways. It won out.

“Rather stand,” Jesse said mulishly, avoiding Hanzo’s gaze. He heard a soft sigh, and then, “...Jesse.” It was gentle, and vulnerable, and that more than anything made his gaze flick up to Hanzo’s face where he saw that same vulnerability warring with his typical stoic mask. 

He saw Hanzo’s lips part and then close, like he was about to speak and was reconsidering his words. He felt bad about it, in a way. This was his fault after all. Everything was always his fault. His chest squeezed painfully, lungs struggling for air. Finally Hanzo found the words he was looking for. 

“Are you...displeased with our relationship?” 

It was like a sucker-punch, low and brutal, knocking the wind out of him completely. 

“Wh-what? No!” Jesse blurted out, just to erase that wounded look in Hanzo’s eyes. He succeeded, partially at least. Hanzo’s lips thinned as he stared at Jesse, the wheels visibly turning behind his eyes. “Then why are you acting out?” Hanzo asked evenly. 

Jesse turned his gaze away again, shrugging. “Dunno,” he lied, hands shoving into his pockets as his shoulders inched up towards his ears. He felt fourteen again, getting bitched out by yet another foster parent who couldn’t take his bullshit any longer. He peeked out the corner of his eye to see Hanzo’s jaw tipped up, gaze unwavering on him, and looked away once more. 

The silence between them drew out plenty long enough to grow uncomfortable, each passing second ratcheting his nerves up higher and higher. Why wouldn’t Hanzo just get it over with? Why wasn’t he hollering and telling Jesse to get his shit and get out? He’d already proved that he was a shitty submissive and an even shittier boyfriend, he _deserved_ to be dropped like a hot rock. 

“If you have no issues with the terms of our relationship, then I am going to punish you for your behavior, Jesse,” Hanzo said finally, cutting the silence with a snap. Jesse recoiled, blinking at him dumbly. “You’re...not dumping me?” he asked incredulously. Hanzo seemed startled by the question, his gaze sharpening even further. 

“What...why would you assume something like that?” Hanzo asked a little breathlessly, like the words had been knocked out of him. The tone made Jesse’s stomach curdle just a touch. “Cuz I…” he gestured helplessly. “I’m trash. I’m a bad sub, even Jeffries said I was a fake, and you’re so goddamn _good_, you shouldn’t hafta deal with my bullshit and baggage, and I just-”

Jesse’s words stalled on his tongue when Hanzo’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a firm embrace, one hand cradling the back of Jesse’s head and tucking his face into Hanzo’s neck. The scent of his cologne suffused Jesse’s olfactory senses, and he went limp, arms wrapping around Hanzo’s waist loosely as a shuddering gasp caught him by surprise. 

“I love you, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo said fiercely, his fingertips digging into Jesse’s skin through his clothes where he held him. “No amount of bad behavior or baggage, or anything else will change that, you hear me?” 

Jesse couldn’t say when he’d started crying, but his lover’s words shook a wrecked sob out of him, his heart breaking and rebuilding itself piece by piece. 

“And Jeffries was a shit Dom. You are all I need. I’m sorry I haven’t been more present lately,” Hanzo murmured more gently, pressing kisses into Jesse’s hair, not relinquishing his hold even a fraction of an inch. Jesse shook his head against Hanzo’s neck, sniffling. “S’not yer fault baby,” he said thickly. “I’m sorry I been so bad.” 

Hanzo drew back just a touch, his palms catching Jesse’s cheeks and gently drawing his face upward, dropping gentle kisses on his lips and nose and jaw. “I am still going to punish you, my love.” Jesse laughed a little, choking on a sob. “Be disappointed if you didn’t, sir,” he confessed. 

Jesse could see the very moment Hanzo the lover became Hanzo the Dom, his spine straightening and eyes glittering with a possessive sadism that never failed to elicit a shiver down Jesse’s spine. “Strip and fetch your collar, boy,” Hanzo rumbled, the honey-and-gravel rasp of his voice making Jesse’s insides wobble. 

“Yessir,” he breathed, scrambling to divest himself of clothes and boots until he stood bare in the living room, exposed to his Sir’s inspection. Hanzo nodded, and Jesse was wise enough to gather up his dirty clothes and take them with him to the bedroom to put in the hamper where they belonged before he removed his day-collar, setting it on the nightstand and grabbing the thick leather-and-silver collar that Hanzo had buckled around his neck almost a year ago. 

He was still somewhat bewildered that Hanzo wasn’t giving up on him, to be perfectly honest. 

Trotting back to the living room, Jesse saw that Hanzo had grabbed his cane from their play-room and winced. Swallowing thickly, he offered the collar to his master and kneeled at his feet, the picture of obedience a stark contrast in comparison to his behavior the past few weeks. Hanzo didn’t speak as he buckled the collar around his neck -didn’t need to, really- and when he was done, tugged it to make Jesse look up at him. 

“I am punishing you because I love you. Not because you are a bad submissive. Do you understand?” He asked gently. Jesse nodded, needing to clear his throat before he could answer properly. “Yes, sir.” Hanzo cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the arch of his cheekbone for a thoughtful moment. “Good. I am going to spank you until my hand hurts, and then I’m going to cane you. You need not count, simply submit.” Jesse winced, thought about trying to talk Hanzo down and just as quickly dismissed the thought. “Yes sir,” he repeated, chewing on his lower lip as he watched Hanzo take a seat on the couch, knees close together to provide a solid surface for Jesse to bend over. 

Carefully lowering himself into Hanzo’s lap, Jesse was hyper-aware of the way Hanzo’s calloused palm steadied him, the way strong fingers squeezed divots into the meat of his ass. He let Hanzo guide him into position, reluctant but obedient as his arms were brought behind his back, Hanzo’s firm grip pinning his wrists together at the small of his back and elbow digging in between Jesse’s shoulderblades. 

Long-legged as he was, his toes were still touching the floor, digging into the plush pile of the carpeting. It didn’t stop him from sliding mentally into humiliation. He felt like a little boy over Hanzo’s lap, exposed and vulnerable. If this had been a play-spanking it would have had his cock throbbing against Hanzo’s thigh, but he knew full well what was coming, and that was enough to keep him soft as he released the last of his reservations, submitting completely. 

Hanzo -clever, wicked, beautiful, wonderful Hanzo- could sense the precise moment Jesse gave in, caressing one asscheek briefly before drawing back and slapping down firmly, skin on skin stinging and warming the curve beneath his buttocks. Jesse breathed a grunt with the first strike, unsurprised when the next and the next came predictably, evenly spaced and almost identical in force. Hanzo’s aim was impeccable, each spank alternating between sides, ravaging his sit spot in ways he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. 

Heat blurred the individual strikes together, regular sparks of pain growing into a burn. Just as Jesse started to find a meditative space in the place between spanks, Hanzo moved higher, lighting up fresh skin over the swell of his ass. Jesse jerked in surprise, tried to twist away and remembered that he was pinned in place beneath the inexorable force of his lover. He wasn’t crying out -knew that would come later- but each spank drove the breath from his lungs, forced him to gasp raw and shuddering in the spaces between. 

It went on forever, he was certain of that. Long enough that the entirety of his ass and a good portion of the backs of his thighs felt like an inferno, ablaze with heat and pain. Even Hanzo’s breath grazing against the tenderized skin was a special sort of agony. 

It was the cessation of the rhythmic slapping sounds that alerted Jesse to the fact that Hanzo had stopped, his own breath loud in his ears as he panted. The bonfire in his backside was plenty to focus on, but without the distraction of Hanzo spanking him, Jesse begame aware of the sweat on his skin, the way the hairs at the back of his neck were prickling, the ache in his shoulders. 

The last one was eased shortly, Hanzo’s hand unclamping from around his wrists and elbow lifting up off his body. Jesse’s arms felt leaden as Hanzo helped him move them forward, both of them shifting in slow motion. Carefully, with one hand that felt hotter than the other, Hanzo helped Jesse off his lap, steadying him until he knew the cowboy wouldn’t collapse under his own weight, though his legs were as shaky as a colt’s. 

Jesse rather thought they couldn’t get much shakier, until Hanzo looked at him with eyes blown black like coals, and cradled Jesse’s jaw in his left hand, drawing him close and brushing their noses together with a tenderness that made Jesse’s insides ache nearly as much as his outside ached. “I love you,” Hanzo breathed, lips grazing Jesse’s in more of that painful sweetness. Jesse felt himself crumble, start to sink, even as he leaned into Hanzo, lungs tight and shoulders shaking with the force of his emotions. 

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ll be good. I swear. Ain’t never gonna push you like that again,” he choked out, gasping around a sob. Hanzo’s fingers dug into his hair, gently combing through the tangled strands. “I know, beloved. I know. But you must suffer a bit longer.” 

Jesse sniffled, nodded, and reluctantly withdrew from his Master, bending over the arm of the couch and presenting himself. He hid his face in the cushions, unable to watch Hanzo take up the cane. 

“So beautiful for me,” Hanzo breathed, an unfair amount of reverence coloring his tone. It made Jesse burn and twist, wanting nothing more than to earn that reverence that was given so freely. 

He shook his head ‘no’, a sob tearing its way up his lungs. He wasn’t. He was awful, and Hanzo still loved him for some unknown reason.

The snap of the cane over the bruised and aching flesh of his ass drove the thought out of him, riding on the tails of a muffled holler that vibrated into the cushions. Jesse’s fingers clawed into the seat of the couch cushion, a physical reminder to hold himself in place for Hanzo. The cane bit again, and this time Jesse’s leg drew up, as though he was going to climb over the couch to escape. 

Hanzo’s hand fell to his lower back once more, holding him steady, thumb rubbing soothingly into his skin as Jesse forced himself back into position, inch by excruciating inch. Once both feet were back on the floor, Hanzo struck again, and again. Jesse howled, fists balling and body jerking with each strike. Each time Hanzo waited for him, a steady, warm presence at his side, until he could right himself once more. 

The spanking had been a spa day compared to the cane, with its nasty bite, and the burning weals it left in its wake. Hanzo got to use it so rarely, McCree couldn’t begrudge him the moments of stillness and satisfaction when each strike landed precisely as intended, and then sawed its way off his flesh. 

By the time Hanzo set the cane aside, the couch was streaked with snot and soaked with Jesse’s tears. He was certain he’d split more than a few seams with his desperate clawing, but everything had gone numb and hazy in the wake of the cessation of pain. Once more, Hanzo’s strong hands guided him when his own limbs refused to work, gently eased him belly-down onto the couch and petted his hair while Jesse sobbed with relief, with pain, with a million emotions he couldn’t discern, didn’t have to, not when Hanzo cooed at him in that rough, rumbling voice of his. 

Finally, the torrent of tears ceased, and Jesse was left struggling to breathe through his mouth as he rubbed his runny nose against Hanzo’s shirt in the mildest, most childish form of retribution possible. Arms held him tenderly, Hanzo’s lips brushing dry and gentle along Jesse’s temple. 

“You cannot scare me off so easily, beloved,” Hanzo crooned. Jesse nodded, exhausted and aching. “Wanna be good f’r you,” he slurred. Hanzo hummed and carefully disentangled himself from Jesse, in spite of his soft sound of displeasure. “You are good for me, Jesse. Even when you are irremediably naughty.” He stroked along Jesse’s head once more before standing. “Now stay put while I get you some water and tell your employers that you’re too ill to work for the rest of the week.” 

Jesse grinned weakly, managing a wink. “Didn’ think this would get me a week off,” he teased. Hanzo snorted dismissively. “Oh it’s not. You’ll be filling in for the housekeeper, who will be enjoying a much needed vacation after what you’ve put them through. Count yourself lucky that you’ll be doing light housework instead of riding Peacekeeper.” Jesse had the decency to look a touch sheepish, even as his eyelids went heavy. 

“Love ya, Sir,” he murmured. 

“And I, you,” Hanzo replied fondly, knowing that Jesse was well on his way to sleep.


End file.
